


Sonata

by Yakkorat



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Blood, Coda, Episode Related, Episode Tag, First Kiss, Gratuitous Piano Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Love, M/M, Magic, Missing Scene, Piano, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-20
Updated: 2009-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:05:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yakkorat/pseuds/Yakkorat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene from Season 4 Episode 8: "Spell."  What happened between Clark finding Lex at the piano in the morning and his rescue of Jason that night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sonata

**Author's Note:**

> **Dedications:** To Jen who has stood by me through thick and thin for eighteen years, and to Laura, who introduced me to the fandom by bringing season one on DVD over and pointing out the fabulous slash, and who always manages to make me smile! I love both of you so much. Also, to [Lanning](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanning), whose entire "Identical" series lives happily on my iPhone and comes with me everywhere I go.  
>  **Betas:** The incomparable Chrysanthemum, as always, because I can't post anything until she has her way with it, and the generous and talented [IgnobleBard](http://archiveofourown.org/users/IgnobleBard). Any remaining atrocities are my own.  
>  **Notes:** Spoiler warning for anything up to and including "Spell." I was in the mood for a little hurt/comfort and couldn't find anything I hadn't read. So I wrote some myself. :)

Wow. He had really screwed up this time. _Come on in. Join the party._ Had he really said that to a Princeton University faculty member? "God," he groaned uneasily as he made his way to the Luthor mansion. He just hoped Lex could help.  
  
Clark breathed deep against the tightness that seemed to constrict his chest whenever somebody mentioned Lex, and then sighed. Why did it seem like the only thing he did with Lex lately was ask for favors? It was like he was making Lex earn back his friendship by measuring how much the young entrepreneur could do for him. _That's not very friendly,_ Clark thought, and grimaced. In the past year or so, it seemed like all he'd given his friend was grief, even though Lex came through for him every time Clark needed him. Sure, Clark had rescued him here and there, but on half of those occasions he'd had to use his abilities and had vanished into the night without letting Lex know who it was who had saved his life _again_. All Lex knew was that some mysterious quirk of fate kept tipping the scales in his favor, and yet his best friend didn't seem to want to do anything but hurl accusations and scream at him. And Lex just went on putting up with the hot and cold attitude, no matter how unfair or unrealistic Clark's expectations, like it was some kind of a penance for earlier sins.  
  
And wouldn't that be just like Lex? To suffer in silence because he didn't know how else to say he was sorry? For all the talent he had with words, the Luthor heir really was crap for expressing himself. So Lex put up with Clark's constant indictments in the hope of clinging to the tattered remains of their friendship, and what did Clark do in return? Clark continually took advantage of Lex's guilty conscience. Wasn't that nice of him?  
  
Shaking his head, Clark stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. What was wrong with him lately? It wasn't like him to hold a grudge. Maybe it was time to put all this behind them, to wipe the slate clean and really give Lex a chance to prove himself trustworthy. Yes. As soon as he got this Princeton mess sorted out, he and Lex were going to spend some quality time together. Maybe a couple games of pool. They could talk. No favors, no veiled interrogations. Just talk, like they used to.  
  
He had to admit, just making the decision to try to put his friendship with Lex back together gave him a sense of relief like he'd never known. Lex was important to him. He always had been. They were two guys on the outside looking in, and they needed each other. His mind made up, he super-sped the rest of the way to the castle.  
  
The walk through the mansion was a quiet one, for the most part. The servants, always unobtrusive, seemed downright invisible, and as Clark approached the office he knew why.  
  
Lex was playing. He never wanted to be interrupted while he was at the piano. For a second, Clark stopped to listen. It was something classical. Difficult, judging by the speed and spread of the notes, but then Lex had never been daunted by a challenge. It was probably why he was still endeavoring to win back Clark's trust, even with Clark's keeping him at arm's length, refusing to let him in. _Well, no more of that,_ he pledged to himself.  
  
For a moment, Clark just stood out in the hall and absorbed the melody. For a person so fully entrenched in his left-brain business and mathematics and sciences, Lex was remarkably creative in his off time. _Music is like a fine wine,_ he had once told Clark. _Best to be savored slowly and with rapt attention._ Maybe he shouldn't disturb him.  
  
But the guy from Princeton would no doubt be telling the admissions officer right now about his lack of interview. If he didn't want to completely lose the chance at this scholarship, he had to move quickly. Clark took a step closer to the door and cringed. He really, _really_ didn't want to do this. It was just so... humiliating. _Hi, Lex. I kind of had a party for Chloe last night, a party to which, by the way, you were not invited, and somebody must have spiked the punch because I woke up with no pants and a sinking suspicion that I had told a Princeton University graduate to join the fun and then ignored him until he left._ Maybe if he didn't look at him, he could say it all in front of his perpetually calm, cool, and collected friend without his voice cracking. Geez.  
  
Clark sighed. Better get it over with. Okay, this was it. He opened the door and went though, his eyes glued to the stained glass windows on the opposite side of the room.  
  
"Lex. Can I talk to you for a second? I got a big problem. I was supposed to meet this alumni from Princeton last night but then Lois wanted to throw a party for Chloe in the barn. Well, the party kind of got out of hand, and the guy from Princeton showed up, and I think I kind of blew it. Look, I hate to ask you this... But do you have any connections at Princeton?" Finally working up the courage to chance his friend's disapproval, Clark looked up at Lex for the first time.  
  
 _What on Earth...?_  
  
He looked haggard, the rhythmic sway of his body appearing more from exhaustion than the intense empathy he usually expressed with whatever piece he was playing. "Lex?" Clark stepped closer. _Lex, why won't you look at me?_ His gaze fluttered down to the keyboard and his heart nearly burst its way out of his chest. It slammed into his ribcage over and over, making his gorge rise and his knees weak. _Jesus God._  
  
Red on ivory, stark, and filled with pain. Smattering the keyboard and pooling around his nails, Lex's blood flowed from fingers raw and cruelly punished. Holy crap. Just how long had Lex been practicing? "Lex, what are you doing?" Now that Clark was paying attention, he noticed the sheen of perspiration glazing the smooth skin of his friend's scalp. Clark's eyes jumped between the mangled fingertips and Lex's bent head. Then Lex raised his chin, and Clark got his first look at his friend's face.  
  
Lex's eyes were sunken hollows, dark, and overflowing with agony. For a moment Clark could do nothing but stare, horrified, and a blinding, overwhelming weariness stared back, struggling to focus on him. Beneath Lex's eyes, tears pooled and streaked down his cheeks. His mouth hung open in a silent plea, but still, he struck the chords with unerring precision, pounding his bleeding fingers to the bone.  
  
"Stop!" Clark cried. Moving as quickly as he could without resorting to his abilities, Clark knelt beside his friend and gripped his arms. "Stop it!" He tried to pull Lex away, but the older man's hands kept reaching, kept moving, kept playing the beautiful, terrible sonata over and over. _Oh, God, Lex, stop!_  
  
"I can't," Lex gasped.  
  
Bracing Lex against his chest, Clark released his friend's left arm to get a good grip on the concert grand. Clark gave the instrument a good, hard shove, channeling his concentration into _not_ sending the piano through the wall in his desperation. It rolled across the floor, and though Lex's arms still reached for the keys, Clark held him back. After a second or two Lex stilled, mostly. His fingers, now limp from overuse and exhaustion, waved slowly, as if plunking phantom notes, still playing the ghostly melody that had haunted him for the extent of what had obviously been a long, painful ordeal.  
  
"Lex, what happened?"  
  
"Lana," the exhausted man rasped, and then his head fell forward, his eyes closed. Lex had passed out in Clark's arms.  
  
Slowly, Clark shifted Lex's weight, pushing the smaller man's shoulders back into the cradle of one arm so that he could scoop up under Lex's knees with the other. Lifting Lex up was like holding a doll. He was too light. Too frail. Ever since his return from the island he had been losing weight. Strange, wasn't it - that alone on a deserted island, full in the throes of malaria, he could be healthier than he was now? Of course, the year that followed hadn't exactly been easy on him. The hallucinogens in his scotch. The constant war with his father, which ultimately resulted in Lex's imprisonment in Belle Reve and that awful shock therapy... Clark would never forgive Lionel for that. Never. Or forgive himself for his own part in it. In the very worst of his nightmares, he still heard Lex screaming.  
  
But that hadn't been all. Oh, no. Lionel had kept after Lex with a vengeance, driving Lex to further and further extremes, until Lex had run to Summerholdt, and Heaven only knew how much damage Dr. Garner could have done to him if Clark hadn't intervened - though truth be told, he should have found a better way to stop Lex than going through Lionel Luthor. God, what a mistake that had been. Clark shook his head at himself and squeezed Lex a little tighter to his chest. Lex had saved _him_ that day, swooping in like an avenging angel, smashing the glass with no regard to the tainted water that poured over his ludicrously expensive Italian leather shoes or Armani suit. There had been such desperation in his eyes, an unchecked emotion so nakedly evident on his face that Clark's heart clenched in his chest even at the memory.  
  
When it came down to it, Lex was a good man. He was just having a little trouble staying on the right path. But that's what he had friends like Clark, and even Lana, for.  
  
Well, Lana when she wasn't apparently hypnotizing Lex into playing Schubert until his fingers bled. _God, where to put him?_  
  
He decided on the black leather sofa in front of the fireplace and Clark laid the unconscious man down gently. Daring now to utilize his powers, he added a burst of speed to his steps as he ran for the first aid kit - Heaven knew he found Lex injured in his own home enough to know where his friend kept it - and into the bathroom for a wet towel. He was back at Lex's side in seconds. "Hang on, Lex. Let me take care of this for you."  
  
Keeping outwardly calm though he was trembling inside, Clark laid everything within easy reach and lifted Lex's hand to inspect the devastation. A sudden queasiness gripped him. He breathed in deep to calm his fluttering stomach; a single towel wasn't going to be enough for this. One ravaged digit at a time, he brushed the warm fabric over Lex's fingers, sweeping it over blisters and cracks, places where the skin had simply split in two and allowed the blood to flow. Clark grit his teeth ruthlessly against the nausea and forced himself to scrub around and under fingernails, cleaning the darkened, dried flakes and applying pressure to smaller wounds to close them. In the end, it took four of Lex's good towels to wash away all of that blood. Clark dumped them on the glass table where they wouldn't stain anything and returned to his friend's side.  
  
Firmly pushing back any of his own reaction until he had Lex's wounds dressed and his friend comfortable, Clark opened the first aid kit and pulled out a roll of bandages. One by one, he wrapped Lex's fingertips in the gauzy fabric. It didn't look pretty, but it would stop the bleeding, and that was all that mattered. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he finished his undertaking. He left Lex alone for a moment, just long enough for him to restore the first aid kit to its proper place and wash as much of the blood from his own hands as he was able. It didn't want to come off. It was as if it had seeped below the surface, staining his skin, and Clark stood there for a long time, scouring his fingers until they were red and raw. Watching the rivulets of deep pink running down the drain of Lex's perfect porcelain bathroom sink, Clark wondered if he would ever forget this moment, this awful Lady Macbeth horror of Lex's blood on his hands.  
  
Eventually he splashed some cool water on his face, dried his nearly blistered palms, and then retrieved a blanket from the hall closet on his way back to the office. Lex hadn't so much as twitched. Clark knelt on the floor beside his friend and laid the blanket over him. "Wake up, Lex," he whispered softly, "just for a minute. Just long enough to tell me you're okay, and then you can go back to sleep. I promise." But Lex never stirred.  
  
Clark sat back on his heels, his eyes on the flickering flame in the fireplace, and prepared to keep vigil. He would stay as long as it took.  
  
Hours later he had memorized the contents of the wet bar, counted the panes in the stained glass windows, raided Lex's book collection. He'd managed to doze off for a few minutes propped up against the couch, but Clark saw Lex even in his dreams. Sometime around sunset he made a quick trip to the kitchen for something to eat. He didn't have much of an appetite, but it was something to do. When he got back to the office, Lex still hadn't moved.  
  
There was just something terribly wrong with this. Lex Luthor may have had the wool pulled over his eyes on occasion by pheromone-excreting psychopaths - or, what's worse, by that devil that Lex called his father - but he was never meant to end up like this. Weak. Hurt. Exhausted... Helpless. He was always so strong, so convinced that he was indomitable, so certain that Clark had started to believe it, too. And then _Lana_ , of all people, someone Lex _knew_. Someone he _trusted_ , and that was a very short list... God, he could _kill_ her for what she had done.  
  
 _Wait... what?_ Had he really just thought that? He would forgive Lana anything... wouldn't he?  
  
Lana chose Whitney despite Clark's obvious devotion. Clark accepted.  
  
Lana ran off to Paris and came back with a brand new boyfriend. Clark understood.  
  
Lana hurt Lex? Homicidal--rage.  
  
Surely she'd done worse; after all, Lex would heal. He would be all right. _Only because I got here in time. If I hadn't..._  
  
For the briefest moment, Clark allowed himself the realization that Lex might have stayed at that piano, disregarding hunger, thirst, exhaustion, until one of them consumed him... and he died. Clark was unprepared for the surge of grief that struck him then, bitter and nauseating and stinging like Kryptonite. Contemplating a world without Lex Luthor made him feel like all the wind had left his body in a rush. _And I was worried about a stupid interview._  
  
And why Lex? _Again?_ God, why not _him_ for once? Lex, Lana, Chloe, his parents... It was always everyone he cared about. Everyone he loved. As if somehow the cosmos knew how best to twist the knife. Lex. It would have to have been Lex. Nothing could be worse.  
  
Now wait just a minute. When had Lex become the single most important person in Clark's life?  
  
Lex had handed himself over to Earl Jenkins without a thought because Clark might have been hurt if he hadn't.  
  
No way. Could it really be that simple? He and Lex... were in love with each other.  
  
All those lingering touches, those long, intense looks, the way Lex had always given him everything he ever asked for. Clark swallowed heavily. The mourning, lost look on Lex's face when Clark had seen the room full of meteor paraphernalia and hadn't been able to forgive Finally, it all made _sense_. It was true. It _had_ to be. And though Lex had never used any of the information in that room to hurt him - and had certainly never turned any of it over to his father - the betrayal inherent in the mere existence of all of that information in one place had scorched Clark's pride. The question was... why? If Pete had done the same would he have turned his back on him as well? What about Chloe - who was far more likely to do something like that? Would his anger have torn their friendship apart? Though a million weak excuses flitted rapidly through his mind, Clark had to admit that he would have reacted differently toward anyone else. Lex had failed to live up to his silly expectations, and so Clark had punished him.  
  
Clark sighed. Well, wasn't that just peachy? What kind of a man would fall in love with his best friend and then torture him for it? What kind of a person could put a man so high on a pedestal that he couldn't possibly help but fall, and then resent that man for shattering the dream he had never asked to be in the first place? Lex was only human. He'd never claimed to be perfect. He had seen more heartache and hardship than any three people Clark had ever known - including Lana - and yet Lex had survived. More cynical than he might otherwise have been. Colder. Harder. But intact, mostly.  
  
As if to verify his own observation, Clark's eyes strayed down to the silent figure lying supine on the couch. Lex was breathing slow and easy, the steady rise and fall of his chest indicating a peaceful sleep that the older boy more than deserved. Why did these things always have to happen to Lex? No matter what he did, fate just kept hurling its worst at him. And time after time, Lex bore it all with unshakable strength and grace. _You're okay,_ Clark thought brokenly, trying to come up with a reassuring smile and failing spectacularly. His chest shook with a sob that he refused to release. Then, he took one of those ruined hands - Lex's slender, beautiful hands - and raised the knuckles to his forehead, holding them there, with his head bowed over his temporary charge. _I'm sorry, Lex. God, I'm so sorry._  
  
"Sorry for what?"  
  
Clark whipped his head up. "Lex!" His voice was hoarse and wet with a relief so complete that he didn't even realize he'd been thinking out loud. Lex's eyes were open, focused, and locked on his own, and it was enough to bring a lump to Clark's throat and set his eyes prickling again. "You're okay!"  
  
"I'm okay, Clark."  
  
Clark let him take his fingers back and shot him a wide, grateful smile. It was too brief, too raw, and Lex could probably see right through it, but it was the best Clark could manage for now. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Like Schubert crawled in my head and died." Lex sighed wearily. Then he lifted his hand to assess the damage done. Slowly, deliberately, his eyes drifted shut and his head leaned back further onto the pillow. He sighed again. "Well, I guess I won't be typing up my memoirs any time soon."  
  
Oh, God, Lex was making jokes. He had stared at his spoiled, bandaged fingers and he was making jokes. Clark shook his head, quashing the moisture in his eyes one last time. For Lex's sake he tried to force a quiet laugh, but it fell flat, joyless. "Guess not," he replied gently.  
  
Reopening his eyes, Lex gave him a tired smile, but one tipping over with gratitude. With sincerity. It made Clark have to swallow back a sob all over again. Lex tried to stifle a yawn but couldn't quite succeed. After a minute, he looked at the clock, and then frowned. "Have you been here all day?"  
  
Clark nodded, swallowed again. Lex was okay. He was really okay. "I couldn't just leave you."  
  
"Worried I'd wake up and head straight for the keyboard?"  
  
"Yeah, I kinda was." That was the trick. Short, easy sentences, ones he could get through before his voice could crack. He could do this.  
  
"It's okay. I think I've kind of lost my affection for playing. At least for a while."  
  
"Understandable." Clark felt the corners of his mouth turn up briefly, but he wasn't so sure it was a smile. "Are you hungry?"  
  
"Not sure I could hold anything down, to be honest. But I could definitely use something to drink."  
  
"Sure," he said, and rose from his place at Lex's side. It took an act of sheer will to stop himself from using super speed to bring Lex the one thing he'd requested since Clark had found him. Even without his abilities, it seemed only a matter of seconds before he was by Lex's side again, snaking a hand under his shoulders to help him raise his head. "Small sips," he urged gently. "Take it slow." The corners of Lex's mouth curled up into a grateful smile as he accepted the aid, trusting Clark to guide the glass to his lips and watch carefully enough to know when he wanted it taken away. "Nice and easy," Clark murmured softly. After a few seconds Lex tilted his chin slightly and Clark lifted the cup away.  
  
"Thanks, Clark."  
  
He shrugged, lowering his friend back to the sofa. "Sure." He laid Lex's head back onto the pillow and pulled the blanket up over his chest. "Can you remember what happened?"  
  
Lex nodded, a tiny motion, weak but determined. "Lana came to me before the party, said she wanted a rare wine to celebrate Chloe's birthday. Before she left, she told me to play, and... I can't explain it. I couldn't _not_ play. It was like... I know this is going to sound strange, but it was like magic."  
  
Before Chloe's party. Jesus. While he was acting like a drunken coed at a frat party, Lex had been here. All night. Scared and alone. In pain. And Lana could be doing it to someone else right now. ''I've got to stop her."  
  
"No!" Lex said in a quick, breathless voice, panic rising to his eyes. "Stay away from her, Clark. Something isn't right about her. She's not herself."  
  
"I know. But she's going to hurt someone else, Lex. If I... She could have killed you. If I hadn't come in and stopped you, you would have played..." His voice trailed off, unable to give voice to what he had realized, over the course of the day, had become his greatest fear.  
  
"I would have played until I died," Lex finished softly. "But it didn't happen, Clark. I'm still here. A little worse for wear, but still breathing, thanks to you. I don't want to see you get hurt."  
  
"You're alive because I was lucky enough to come here today. Someone else might not be so lucky. Lex, if I don't stop her, nobody will. I don't know if anyone else can."  
  
Lex seemed to hold his eyes for a long moment, digesting what Clark had told him. Then he nodded, slowly. "Just be careful."  
  
"I will. I'll come by to check on you once I get Lana under control. When I get back, we are going to have a long talk."  
  
"Really? What do we have to talk about?"  
  
"Let's start with how much of a jerk I've been being lately, and then segue right into why I felt so betrayed when I saw your little... collection."  
  
"Clark," he said, trying to push himself to a sitting position, "I told you. All that stuff is gone now."  
  
Immediately, Clark moved in to soothe him. "Shh. I believe you, Lex. I know." Moving slowly, gently, he pushed Lex's shoulders back to the couch. "I know. Look, we've both done some things that we're not proud of over the past couple of years, but you're only human, Lex." Reaching down with both hands, he curled his fingers over the edge of Lex's blanket and pulled it slowly back up over his friend's chest.  
  
A bolt of heat shot through his body and Clark looked down, fixing his gaze on the source. Lex had laid his hand over Clark's, and the simple touch had set his whole body tingling. How had he never noticed how he felt about this man? He had to be phenomenally, abysmally stupid.  
  
" _We're_ only human," Lex murmured, a little too breathily.  
  
Clark winced inwardly at the lie he so very badly wanted to believe, but it was almost an afterthought. His blood raced like lightning in his veins. Lex's face was so close to Clark's that he could feel Lex's breath on his cheek, could feel it hitch just a little when his hand moved over Lex's chest. Under his fingers, Lex's heart beat a quickening rhythm. Moment of truth. He was right about this. He just knew it. "I think I know the reason why we've both been so crazy around each other."  
  
Lex raised a single brow, outwardly calm despite the racing of his heart. "Oh, really. And what might that be?"  
  
"This," Clark whispered, and leaned down enough to press his lips lightly to his friend's.  
  
Lex froze. The rapid heartbeat under Clark's palm raged to a thundering frenzy, and just for a second, Clark wondered if he could have been wrong after all. Then two weakened arms slid over his back, drawing him closer, and Lex's lips parted under his in a soul-burning moan. The heels of Lex's hands pressed into his shoulders pulling their chests together, and Lex's tongue slipped into his mouth, exploring. Clark felt his eyes drift shut as the flavor of Lex Luthor exploded through his senses, cool and crisp as ripe apples and autumn air. For the briefest of moments Clark held Lex's lip between his teeth, nibbling the plump, firm flesh and then letting it go only to slant his mouth over Lex's again. God, how could it have taken him so long to realize he was in love with this man?  
  
Clark had seen Lex kiss before - a bevy of women crossed Clark's mind - but nothing could compare to the experience of being on the receiving end of that intensity, of being so completely devoured. Lex left no part of Clark's mouth untouched, no inch unworshipped. How could anyone who had been kissed like this ever think of hurting him? And yet they all had: Victoria slept with Lionel, Desiree set him on fire, Helen tried to poison him, and certainly others had made attempts before Clark had been there to protect Lex. _Never again,_ he pledged with mouth and lips and sweet, soft kisses. _I'll never let anyone hurt you like that again._  
  
Moving with sudden determination, Clark abandoned Lex's mouth to trace a smooth line of kisses along his jaw. It left Lex whimpering a small sound over and over, and after a second Clark realized it was his name. Encouraged, Clark planted a gentle kiss to the sensitive skin behind Lex's ear, drawing out a gasp, and instantly knew he would do just about anything to make Lex make that sound again. But he needn't have worried, because as he trailed his mouth along Lex's neck, Lex didn't stop. "Clark... God... wanted you for so long... never thought... God, Clark..."  
  
 _He's babbling,_ Clark thought with a warm combination of amusement and pride. He had reduced Lex Luthor to incoherency. Definitely a confidence booster. Entirely satisfied with himself, Clark bit gently over Lex's adam's apple. Lex let out a strangled moan and used his palms under Clark's chin to bring Clark back to his lips.  
  
Lex kissed as if it were an art form, as if he were giving instruction to a master class of apt pupils. It was a gentle but thorough assault and Clark couldn't help but sink into it; the lights seemed to have dimmed everywhere else and there was nothing but the two of them, holding and touching and absolutely perfect. Nothing could trouble them. Inside their moment, frozen in time, there was no farm. No school. No Lionel or LuthorCorp, or Chloe or Lana. _Aw, shit, Lana._  
  
Reluctant to end this brilliant heaven but knowing that he had work to do, Clark pulled away from his friend - boyfriend? - resting his forehead on Lex's and catching his breath before straightening a bit.  
  
As softly as they had wafted down, Clark's eyes drew open, and the sight beneath him was enough to steal his breath anew: Lex, his lips kiss-swollen and red, his eyes watching him, studying his face as if trying to memorize every detail. Those warm grey pools were filled again with tears, but this time a tired smile accompanied them. This was Lex as few had known him, open and unreserved, and wholly, utterly beautiful. This was the face Clark wanted to see every day for the rest of his life. "God, I love you," he whispered, and then froze.  
  
 _Way to go, dumbass. Why don't you just scare the guy off before you even get started._ But the unabashed joy in Lex's widening grin told him without a doubt that he had said the right thing.  
  
"I'll be back, Lex. I promise. And then we have a lot to talk about, you and I. In the meantime, I want you to get some rest."  
  
"Yes, sir," Lex smirked.  
  
Clark leaned down, kissed the top of Lex's satiny-smooth crown, and stood. Lex was watching as he moved, and as if he could read the older man's mind, he caught Lex's gaze and reassured him. "I'll be careful, Lex."  
  
Lex smiled as if he'd been caught doing something he oughtn't and shrugged. "Can't blame me for worrying. Near death experiences follow you like the IRS follows my father. Just come home to me in one piece."  
  
"I will," he said, and walked out, smiling all the way. He was going to tell Lex everything. _Everything._ And Lex would understand. Lex would forgive him, because he always did. And Lex would protect him and his secret, because he'd always protected Clark. And now, Clark knew why.  
  
Suddenly everything in his life seemed like it could make perfect sense. The evening air was brisk and clean, like Lex's kisses had been. Like they would be when he got back to the mansion. Back home.  
  
Now he just had to find Lana, and he was pretty sure he knew where to look.  
  


**_~ End ~_ **


End file.
